Maybe Never, Maybe Tomorrow (But Certainly Not Today)
by Aea
Summary: Since the accident, Graham can't always explain how he knows things. (Based on the 2019 Netflix reboot)


Hello, my lovely readers!

Well, I have to admit that for a good minute there, I didn't think I'd actually be back to writing, much less for yet another show my babysitting charges binged-watched with me (not the first time, probably not the last, honestly). The new Carmen Sandiego reboot left me with feelings, you know? As a fan of the original Carmen Sandiego back in the day, I suddenly felt compelled to write about it. There are lot of things I kind of want to tease out (I'm plotting timelines before I can get too far), but I'd though I'd start with getting poor Gray off the side of the road.

You'll want to be familiar with the 2019 Netflix series episodes 1,2,3 and 6 of season 1 (hopefully we get more than one?) to jump in here.

Onward!

* * *

Since the accident, Graham's dreams have been in black and white.

The doctor said that's a little unusual but not a sign of permanent brain damage or anything, so he'd been pretty content to let it go. His dreams (when he can remember them) are mostly what Graham considers pretty typical for a young electrician of high ambition: vast wealth, dramatic escapades, pretty girls, rush of wind in his face, a hum of electricity. But clearly never to be confused with his real life, because it's all gray.

His real life is colorful enough anyway; he works at the opera. If he's not tripping over someone's insanely intricate costume to get to a hard to reach light bulb, he's trying to explain the stage crew _no, you can't hang the scenery from the lighting cables. Almost dying once on the job is enough, thank you very much._

Graham doesn't have a lot of spare cash these days, but it's become his tradition to treat himself to a night out at the end of a show. It'd been a long couple weeks, and the sound guys are new and a constant pain in his ass, so a beer and a burger sounded like proper way to celebrate surviving this latest run.

He's only got a few more shows to get through- an evening run tomorrow and matinee the day after. He's still an apprentice, and so blissfully off for the closing Gala next weekend.

He's so close to being through with _Carmen_.

He's been trying to get the music out of his head for weeks, but now Graham finds himself determinedly humming _L'amour est un oiseau rebelle_ in the lingering warmth of the evening air _,_ trying to block out the traffic and general hustle on the road next to him. There was something about the girl in red he can't shake, and he can't explain it. Maybe it was the way she spoke, like every word was a wire she wanted him to trip over.

 _(Lights out, baby.)_

He really would have just let the girl be, if she hadn't been so damn _bold_ about sneaking around backstage, and then acting like it's _his_ fault she's out of place. Sneaking isn't even the word; she was standing almost directly behind the chorus wearing, of all things, a bright red dress. Graham is mostly a live-and-let-live kind of guy, but opera-themed cosplay is new to him.

As he approached her, he realized it's not a dress, but a long coat. His reaction was instinctive: arms up to his chest defensively, and he cast a look around for exits. He's never had a panic attack (that he can remember), but every fiber of his being told him this girl needed to leave _now._

 _(You...really don't remember me.)_

He knows he probably had friends before the accident, although in the months since he hasn't run into anyone who seems to have fallen out of memory; no ghosted-on ex-girlfriends or old buddies wondering why he never responded to texts. At the hospital, they told him some old friends might be offended until he can explain what happened, but this girl sounded… relieved.

He probably should have just asked her about that right there.

 _(Guess you just… remind me of someone I used to know.)_

It hadn't bothered him, waking up without anyone. But it does get under his skin now, that he isn't the person she's looking for, or wants him to be.

Next time, he thinks. Next time he will be.

He probably should have just asked her out right there.

( _Thought you could be my guide.)_

He's not one prone to fall for a pretty face easily, so he can't exactly pinpoint what made him ask the sneaky girl in red to dinner, but the idea that wouldn't see her again just made him feel so… _alone._ He's positive she wants to see him again too, although he can't explain how he knows that.

 _(I can think of worse ones.)_

His favorite cafe is not especially stylish, or even popular, and maybe that's why Graham likes it so much. It's easy to be forgotten here, and that makes him feel somehow more welcome. The beer helps, too. It's getting into spring now, and the outdoor cafes that line the water have shaken off the cool, quiet months to look forward to summer, Christmas, and tourists.

( _Carmen!)_

They've only really spoken a handful of sentences to each other, so he _can't_ have any idea what she would say in greeting or how she would say it. But their eyes meet as he stands in front of the crosswalk, expecting her to move closer any second, and he suddenly _knows_ the sound of things she never said.

 _(Nodifyouunderst-staticcling?-bringtherain-thiefjustlike-hiteverypocket!-havingmyback-suregray)_

Just before the light changes, a passing bus sends a gust of wind against his face, and more than knowing, he _remembers_. Just a second's worth: an impact, a gust of wind, the whole world swirling but wide eyes not leaving his, and-

 _Don't let go._

He's certain she'll be gone when street clears, although can't explain how he knows that either.

For the first time in years, he sees the color red in his dreams that night.

In the morning, he starts searching.


End file.
